


Dark Series

by Sapphire_Ruby



Category: jacksepticeye
Genre: Blood, Gen, Medicine, Surgery, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-12 17:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21479926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire_Ruby/pseuds/Sapphire_Ruby
Summary: Robbie is Henrik's patient. They work day in, day out, working to make Robbie better. Life is simple, but it's nice. Enough that Robbie's brain can handle without being overwhelmed.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	1. Dark Heart

**Author's Note:**

> content warning: blood, surgery, medical descriptions

Henrik was a big part of Robbie’s life; his doctor, his friend, someone who had known him before. But everything between them was simple. Robbie was simple. That happened when parts of the brain rotted away. That’s what Henrik had said happened. There were a lot of things about Robbie that Henrik found interesting. But Robbie didn’t remember much of that. He was already dead, but he was living. What more was needed to know.

Today, Henrik was doing another test on him. That’s what the note near his bed had said. It was easier to read than to remember too much. Robbie slid on the shoes beside his bed and shuffled down to the basement where Henrik’s lab was. He would wait there until the doctor was ready to meet him. His days were the same, from what he could tell. And they were full of large periods of time without doing anything. So this wasn’t new.

There was a container with a green liquid in it. A note was placed in front of it. “Drink me, and write down the time.” Next to the note was a pen. A box with numbers displayed on it was right beside the bottle. Robbie had been trained to recognize that was the clock. The clock told time. He picked up the bottle and poured the liquid down his mouth. There was a patch in his throat that he felt liquid get caught on. The tear on his neck still wasn’t healed. Henrik would need to know about that.

Putting the bottle down, Robbie picked up the pen to write his note. The clock read 9:36. His hand was shaky, but he did his best to copy down the numbers. He also wrote down “throat” to let Henrik know to examine it. Better than remembering or writing more than necessary. Once done, he sat down on the table with the sheet on it. Why the sheet was necessary, Robbie didn’t exactly remember, but it was his seat.

Time passed, and something started tingling inside him. Like a bubbly feeling in his stomach, but more intense than in the past. Henrik finally came in. “Robbie, how are you feeling right now?”

“There’s tingling inside of me.” Henrik wrote it down on his paper after looking at the note Robbie left.

“As expected...” Henrik didn’t look up from his board. “And the cut on your throat is still leaking?” Robbie nodded. Some scribbles down onto his paper. “I’m gonna try another cure today. And to do that, I need to get your circulatory system working. So I’m gonna be putting you on bypass. You also don’t have any blood left, so I’ll be giving you transfusions throughout the procedure. Once you’re blood is pumping sufficiently, I need to massage your lower intestine. The mixture you drank earlier should have already made its way down there, but I need to make sure it absorbs into the bloodstream. I’ll just be massaging your abdominal region, it shouldn’t require more than that. And we’ll see from there.”

Henrik looked up towards Robbie. Robbie didn’t understand a lot of that, but he trusted Henrik, and that was enough for him. “Can you give me your arm?” Henrik requested. Robbie extended his left arm. A needle was inserted, but Robbie didn’t feel pain, just a small stick. Henrik connected the needle to a red bag. “Lay back on the table. I need to open your chest to start the bypass.” Robbie obeyed and soon the doctor was holding a knife to him. “I’m gonna cut you open now, okay?” Robbie just laid his head down and closed his eyes.

More time passed, and he could hear the doctor messing around. “What if this one doesn’t work Henrik?” The doctor didn’t respond immediately.

“Don’t think about that right now. Just... breathe, right now. Try to relax.” Relaxation was always a strange concept to Robbie. Was he supposed to be in pain? Was he supposed to feel on edge? He just remained motionless on the table, with the passage of time, just waiting, like always.

“Okay... Robbie, do you feel anything?”

“Like what?” Was feeling a sign that it was working or that it wasn’t? Nothing had really changed for him, in him.

“Nevermind. It looks like you have enough blood, so I’m gonna start trying to circulate the cure. Tell me if it starts to hurt.”

“Will do.” The doctor’s hands pressed into Robbie’s stomach. He could feel, and almost hear, the squishing of his organs inside of him. But that didn’t hurt. Robbie wasn’t even sure that he could feel pain anymore. Not physically anyway.

Looking up at Henrik’s face, he wasn’t as calm as before. “Is something wrong?”

“What? Oh, no. I just um, I need to start your heart beating again.” There was a heavy look in his face. “I’m going to need to shock you.”

“Okay.” Robbie laid his head back down. The shocks were never fun. But, according to Henrik, they were the only way to get his heart beating again. And a beating heart was part of being alive.

Robbie wrapped his fingers around the edges of the table and pressed against it as hard as he could. There was a small prick to his heart, and then he heard a machine fire to life. “Charging...” Cold surrounded his exposed heart. “Clear.” The electricity flooded his body and shot to his brain. He would have sworn that he could see his brain surrounded by sparks, and then plunged into darkness. But that was only the act of an imagination. “Charging...” Robbie bit down. “Clear.” Needles were being stuck into his head. And now his body was starting to feel the prickle of heat and ice from shocks. “Charging...” Was a cure worth pursuing? “Clear.” 

Something... There was a something in him....

A something that he...

  
  


Something’s happening all over...

  
  


A... some... feeling....

.....

....

A pulse in his chest.... He felt it... And great pressure in his fingertips. And the chemicals in his brain, and the needle in his arm and the slit on his throat and the hole in his chest.

Everything was happening and it kept getting bigger and bigger. There was liquid running through him, but it felt like it was moving like a speeding train. The chemicals were bouncing around, missing their marks. His muscles felt like they were all firing and contracting, working against one another and tearing apart his joints. That beat in his chest just got faster and faster and more forceful each time.

“Robbie! ROBBIE! JUST BREATHE! OKAY?! BREATHE!” Robbie tried to think about breathing, but that just caused his thoughts to collapse into him. He felt like tearing out his brains to try and get rid of this torment, but the second he moved something, it turned into stone and cemented in its spot. “BREATHE!” There wasn’t a way to breathe. Couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

“Why?” Even that ripped open his already damaged throat. Eyes squeezed shut, he couldn’t try to see, let alone imagine anything. Was this how he died? Truly, finally? Painfully?

  
  
  
  
  


_ Ǹ̺o̺͝,̬͝ ̘̉b͎̔ę̌c͈a͙͝ụ̆s͍͝é̩ ̤͗t̯͌h̦a͖̾t͍͊ ̧w̳̉ǫ̍ũ̙l̢̈́d̖̉ ͖̿b̳͝e̟̕ ̟̆ṯ̈́ő̼o͖͛ ̦̍ê͕a̠̕ṡ̡ẏ͜,͇̒ ̗͝w̧̓o̧͐u̪l͈̃d͈̅n̥̾’̜̓t͖̓ ͔̈́it̅.̹͝ _


	2. Dark Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares are a funny thing, make you feel things that aren’t real. Especially when you’re not i̹̽n̨͠ ̨́c̮̍o̜̾n͇͗t͍̆r̬͗o̫͠l̛̻.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: blood, death, implications of violence.  
Also, zalgo text

I̲t͊ is̙͠n't t̅h̍at̉ ̣͝eás̆y ͙t̒ơ "cu͉re" ỹ͚o͇̾u͌. N̡̾or t͌ǒ̰ k̭̊ill̦̈ yo̹͊u.̺̍ Ẏ͜ouṟ̄ fri̚én͗d̖̓ ḯs̼̕ t̺̔o̒o s̹̎im̋p͑lě ͠to sę͌e̛̮ t̟̄hat.̩̐

_ ̨̕_E̔v̒e͗n͆ ̂šo, a̛͜ c̈́ur͗ė͖ is͐n't ̘͘wor̝͛th ̛͙p̼͝urs̔uin͇̉g.̮̓ ̣̓ I̩t ̲͂wo͙̊ul͓̿d ọ̇nl̠̽y ̝̍k̝ill̻͆ ̥́y͚̒o̬͂u. ̮͠H̤͝e͍̾'s j̛̟ust̛͎ ͚͠m̢̚an̽i͔̐pu̔lä͎́t̛ing͕͗ yoŭ͈.͎͠

Robbie was standing in the middle of darkness, a broken voice echoing around him. “He’s my friend.”

H̤͝e͍̾ ȋs̘̔n’t̝̏ full̹̔y ̭͂å̡ck̢̽n̩̓owlė̱dging͕͗ who ̱̍yo̭͠u ́ḁ̉re. ̌Y͗͜ou ̝̈́a̦͝r̲̎en’t ̘̍th̟̊e pē͖rs͜͠ȯ͓n ̱yö́͜u w̩̆er̹̒e b͊e͇͑for̠̔e. ͓̑Yo͉͝u ̰͋maỳ͖ lo͓̾o̺̓k lik̲̽e ̜̄him͒, b̞̔ủ̺t y̻̏o͘u ̈a̡͝re̺̔ ̩͋d̘̎iffḛ̈́rȩ́nt̊ͅ e̳̔nẗ̥ir͔̐el̻͋y.̳̓

_ ͕͘_T̡͐ell ̠̍mẽ̦, ̜̀dọ͊ ̨͛yoũ̪ ̹̾ev͍͝ẽ͖n ̛̹h͉̊av̫̋ē͎ ań̜y ̬̇m̼͝em̨͑o̫̾r͠ie͉͊s̘̒ from̘ ̱̑b͎͛efọ̈rê͈ ̺̎yo̮̽u w̘̑er̈́ͅe ̧̓lḯ̤ke̝͠ tḣ̭is̹? O̚r ha̧̅ve̹͝ the̥̋y ̕“͚̄ṙo̐tt̕ͅed̫͌ ̘̉aw̮̒ay̢̌?͙̍

Robbie tried to think back that far, but it was just blank. Memories taken away when his brain decayed.

H͗ë́’͆s ̂no̓t͑ ̆t͝ë́ll͊ing͊ ̓ÿö́u̇ ̐t͑ȟe ̀e̚n͒ẗ́ȋr̿e̓ ̓t̚r̿u͠t̍h̋ ͒i̓s̈ ̀h͂ẽ? ͆J͝u͝s̿t̃ ͋r̉u̒ńniń̻g͓͝ ̠̇ḧ̢́i͐s ̍ḿu̐n̉da̿n͌ê ̄t̍e͝st͝s an̈́ḋ p̕e̍r̋f̄ořmin͠g̾ ͗e̒x̀p̿e͝rim̈e͛n̕t͗s͘ ̿o͛n͘ ̈y͛öu͝.̔ ̏Ḧ́a͋s ͋he ̋ev͊er̈́ ͗l͆et ̅yo̅u̾ d̏ȯ ͌a̛nÿ́th͂i̕n͝g̛ ͝èls̽e?̧̑ L̒et ̧͝you͂ ̅gő ̍ỏûtsi̐d̊e͊?̈́ ̑ Do ̃a͛ny̅t̂h͛în̂g̃ ͒w͘i̇t͊h̀öu̕t̑ ̆h̅i͗s̠͊ **͝éx͆p͂ress̮̀ pe͑r͌ḿḯs̓s͗ïo̽n͔̄**.̈́ ̅H̊e͝’͠s t͒re͠at̕i͊ng ̍y̛őu ̀l͝i͐k̀e̛ ̍a ̈c̿híl̉d͒.̚ ͆L̾ḯk̑e ̋y͝o͌u͝’r͗e͊ ̇i̿n͌c͗ä́p̋a̚b̅le̍ ̒of̎ ͝t͝hḯn͛kin̚ġ ̔för ̛y̎oŭrs͛e̋l̈́f̑.͘ ̎Lǐk̏e͝ ̋y̍o͂ù ̈d͗on͘’̓t́ ̃d͌e͛s̾êr̛v̅e͠ ͝t͗͜ơ ̓k͘n̄ȏw̓ ͘t̔h̿ĭn͂g̍s͠.͑

_ ̳̃_Y̠̍o̝͘ū̖ ̰̈́c̹̎ăn͉̏’͔͆t r̝͗e̿l̩̃y̆͜ ̢͑o̱̕n̨̔ ̀h͚̎i͔͋m̃ ͈͋f͙̎o̅r ̇e̅v̪͝e͆r̈ýť͙hin͒g͐. Ỳ̠őû ͂h̭̿av̅ẽ ̕t̃o̎͜ d̩o ͜t͝hi̾n̍g͋s fö́r̺̈́ y͔͌ou͒r̦͘s͋ẻl͖̕f͜. ̭̄Thĭn̛k͓̑ f̨̆o͑r̿ ͖͗y͝óu̓r̿ŝe̛l̄f. B̊e͆c͝a̎us̿e̦͝ ̨̽e̓v͛e͝nt͒uą̈́l̽l̮̽y h͙̕e̻̿ ͐w̏il̯͋l ḏ̏ie̡.̤͛

̍͜M̾åý͚bẻ͖ ͋fr̈́ôm͈͗ ̝̊s̨͊om̛̱e̛ ̙̅ac̕c͓͝id̹̀ĕṋ̃t..̤.̯͝

Robbie was standing in what must have been the outside world. Henrik was face down on a black patch of ground. There were two big metal machines crumpled and mangled around him. There were sparkly shards strewn about and some were stuck in Henrik. There was blood coming from Henrik’s head and pooling on the ground. His limbs were twisted the wrong way.

Robbie felt something happening inside of him. Something that made him want to look away, but his eyes were forced to look upon the scene in front of him.

M̝̽a̯͊y͠b̒e͗ ͝f͐r̓o͐m̘ ̉s̋o̅m̽ę͌ ́b͎͛ōtc͓͝hȇd̈́ ̍e͝x̉p͗er̐ḯm͆e̡nẗ́.̥̉.̡͒.͌

He was sitting on the table, and Henrik had a needle inserted into his own arm. “I need you to bite me. All my tests have shown that this will work, but I need proof.” Robbie could see himself lifting Henrik’s arm. Feel his teeth sink into his friend. And do nothing but watch as his friend started spasming and flailing. Falling to the floor and not moving or breathing.

M͚̅ay͛be͙͊ ̄fr̹͑om̹̾ ̖̐h͐ͅis ͆ö̯́wń ̈c͈̊ar̬̎ele͑ss̼̍nē͚ss͇̊ ̔͜ẅ́ith ̳̂yo͕͠u.̱̄..̋͜

Robbie was still on the table, but now there was a needle in his arm. Then his vision changed. And there was this intense hunger. Henrik was no longer his friend. He was an obstacle in his way. Robbie needed to leave, but Henrik pinned his arms down. That wasn’t enough to stop him. Effortlessly, Robbie threw him off to the side and made his way up to the stairs. His nostrils filled with the smell blood and he paused to look back. Henrik wasn’t just an obstacle, he was food.

“Please, stop showing me these... untrue things.” Robbie fell to his knees, not wanting to believe that he could do those things, that those things could happen to his only friend. He could feel water rolling down his face.

T̢̈́h̎ese a̱͑re ͖̄ĵ̩ust ̦̅s͙̈́o͝mé̮ ̜͋i͂n͈͗ev͑it̡͊abilitì̬e̯̊s.̲̋ ͉̒M̧͑ã͎yb̝͂e ̭̂n͝ot̿ ̇t̂he ̼̇ex̡̎act̞̊ ̣͘oû̙c͉͑oṁ̻e,̦̕ ̼̾bŭt ̘̋h͙̐e ͋w̝̿ill ev̞̈́en͕͠tua̰͑lly͆ l͔̅ea̻͝ve͑ y͚̐ȍu.̀ ̘͑L͂eav̐e ̏y̮̎ou̿ alļ͝ ̗̕alỏn̘̔e,͙̔ ̛͕witḧ̹́ ̻͂no̢̚ on͉͋e ̹͝e͎̋l̙͂se͂ ͌to̼ ͚̆c̚͜ö͎m̙fō̻rt̩̐ ͛y̏ou̫͛.̡͌

“That’s not true.” Henrik had always been there for him. He promised he would be.

Ĥ͉e’s̱͛ h̓ͅü͍ma͈͗n,͝ f̝̈ra̳gil̩͗e̘̅.͝ͅ ̳͂B̠͒ut I̪̿’̤̓m̹̈́ ̰̄no̬͝t.̝́ ̢̋Y͇͂ò̡u're̢̎ ṅ͜oẗ̪.̱̋ ̩̄B̭̆eca̞͐us͘͜e͔͒ ͖̾we̕͜ ͔͋will̯̄ ̻͘o̭̐ṳ͘tlas͚̔ẗ̟́ ͎̔him͉͒,̲́ ͍̾outl̔as̮͑t̄ alľ̖ ̖̇o̻̿f ͚̽t͔͛h͎̏e̅͜m̮͘.̬̄

“Who even are you?” Why was this voice being so mean?

The voice took a time to respond. ̥̒A͕̿sk ̝͝your ̢̒dë̜́ạ̓r f̣̅rien̊d͐ ̥̅aḅ͊oṳ̆ṱ͊ ̦whỷ̜ ̻̈́he̼̿ ̦̓ha̯̎s ̲̏n̦̈́o͆ ̕h̡̓oụ͛sẻ͚mā͔tẹ̇s̺.̬͠

“Why won’t you just tell me?”

B̳̾e̛c͒au̎se͂͜ ͓̔y͈̐oű ̪͠n̙̽eed̯̎ t̗̃o͘ ̩̏s̲ee ẃͅḫ͐at̥͋ ̟̔ȁ̪ ̖͐liȧr̍ a͠n̩͗d̞̓ ̫̎ma̧͐n͒ip̾ul͚͝at̠̎o̚r͆ ̒h͐ë́ ͌t͛r̈́uly̒ ͗i̇ś.̎ ̙͠Ḫ͑e ̉d̝͐ŏe̼͋sn̼͝’t c̳̄ǎȑë ̟̍ạ̓b̃oȗt̿ ͗yo͖͂u̍ ̯́a͖̽ẗ́ all̫̓. Y͍͐o͘u’re̙͘ ju͗͜s̃t̡̓ ͘ͅs̹͠om̡̽e͌th͉̽inğ̖ ẗ́o͜ fill ͙̐tĥe ͇͒h͕̕ole͔̓ ̣́i͘n͋ ͊hĭs ̡̉h̗͐ea̩͝rt̓.̞̈́ ͝But́ ̻̌it's̭̄ ̓ä ̨̓poor̗̎ ̅sü̟bs͈͠tit̡̽ut̫͗e. ̼͠

“He’s my friend. He cares about me. You’re the liar.”

...͂ ̾... ̳̍W͚͝hen ̗̒yö̮́u re͎̊a͝li̖͝ze̛ ̼̐yo͊u ̳̈́cân’t t̤̿ru̞̕sẗ́ ̝̑him̪̅.̄.̚.̫ ͍͛wh̎ͅen̠̊ ͉̇ȳ̖o̓u̦͂ fê̬e̊ͅl ̃ͅlĭ̥k͎̾e ̰͂yǒ̭u͔͑'re̐ ͌a̾͜l̹̈l ̈́ä̧́ḷ̊o̔ṅ̫ẽ̤ ̺̈́in ̱̔ẗ̪h͔̃įs͐ ̬͊w̘͛o͍̎r̪͛ld.͠.͍̂.́ ̅l̉i͠k͌ë́ ̇yo̅u̇ ͠c̉a̍n̏’̎ť ̕tr͌u̅s̓t̎ ̃àn͎̈́y̛o̾ne̐.͂.́. ͋j̈ǘs̑t ͠r̋em̈́e͑mḃe̊r͂ ̅ẗ́h͒a͐t̚ ̅y̓òu͌’̍v̏ë ̊alw͐a̎y̌s͗ ́go̒t͋ ̓m͘ě.

“No! Just go away!” Robbie tried to cover his ears and his eyes, block out this man. He didn’t want to listen – to believe anything this man said.

Ȳ͜o̅u͍̾’ll ̀s̃ȩ͘e͋.̽.͋.̔.̛ ̆A͠ś̜ḵ̉ ̀h̓i̿m̙̀ ̈́a͘b͝ô͍u̽ͅt̍ Ċḧ̹́a̾ṡe͔͊ ̽B̽r̦̋o̠̊d́y͋.̇

The voice started laughing, leaving Robbie to sit in the darkness, crying to himself. 

  
  
When Robbie opened his eyes, he was lying in his bed. Staring at the ceiling. He rolled over onto the floor, feeling more tired than usual. There was a note on his bedside table in Henrik’s handwriting. Robbie picked it up to read it. **Going to do some physical tests today.** He went to put it down when he saw the other note. It was in different handwriting, much harder to read, but Robbie managed the task.** A̿s͘͜k ̉h̍i͆m̪̅ ̂a̯͊b̂ỏūt̋ ͠C̃ḧ̹́as̓ê̬.͋** That nightmare wasn’t just a conjuring of his imagination. It was something real that had happened to him. Whoever it was that had been talking to him was insane and didn’t know Henrik like Robbie did. But it was strange that there was no one else in the house. There were five bedrooms, but only the two of them. And Robbie didn’t ever leave the house either. Just went to the lab to run tests and slept in his room. A mundane life... Maybe the voice was right. Maybe Robbie wasn’t being treated fairly. He stared down at the strange note. Maybe he should ask Henrik some questions...


	3. Dark Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie has some questions for Henrik. Questions that were inspired from his little chat with t̡̮͌͐h̬̠̾̓e̺̹̔̍ ̘͔́̑v̢̼̽͝o̧̙͛͛ḯ̟̹̿c̫͒ͅe̖͕̾̇.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: blood, zalgo text

Robbie continued his morning routine, with thoughts swirling around him for once. His legs carried him down the stairs to the first floor and then further down to the lab. The surroundings there and in his room were familiar, but the in-between areas... They blended together into a large, long, empty scene with scattered doorways. It felt... strange that it was this way. But, he really felt the space now.

Henrik was already there, fiddling with the machine with lots of wires. “Ah, Robbie, come here. I was just starting to get set up.” Robbie moved towards his usual table-seat, careful not to bump into Henrik or the equipment. As soon as he was settled, the doctor started placing sticky circles on Robbie’s head. The circles already had wires connecting them to the machine. “How are you feeling today Robbie?” That question was routine by now.

“I’m... something.” Robbie knew something was different within him. But, he wasn’t sure what it was or how to describe it.

The doctor gave pause to his work. “Something?” Robbie noticed a change in Henrik’s voice at the end. Higher pitch.

“Can we do something besides running all these tests sometime?”

“Like what, Robbie?” That was a question he didn’t know how to answer. Although, not because he didn’t know the word, he simply didn’t know. His life, the one he knew, it was his room, the lab, Henrik, and the tests. Other things to spend time on were lost to Robbie.

“I dunno. Just something else.”

“Are you, unhappy with your current routine Robbie?” The routine felt... good. It was easy for Robbie to do. Wake up, lab, room, sleep. Repeat. Was that enough now?

“I don’t know what happy is. But, just something new.” Henrik looked like he was thinking, but then went back to placing the patches on Robbie. Always thinking. Robbie started thinking too, trying to recall some of the other things he was questioning.

“Do you think I could go outside?”

Henrik didn’t pause his work this time. “Is that the new thing you want to do?”

“I, haven’t been out there.”

“Yes... but I don’t think that would be a good idea. People wouldn’t respond well to seeing... someone like you.” Robbie knew he was different. Being dead somehow made you look different. Even just from looking at Henrik, he could see it. And a feeling, maybe an escaped memory, that people weren’t like him, but more like Henrik. Robbie wished he knew how death changed him, but Henrik refused to talk about what Robbie was like alive. Introducing bias, he had said.

“We can just go when there aren’t people.”

“The sun may damage your skin. I don’t know if I could repair it.” The doctor was done with the stickies, but refused to look at Robbie.

“Then we can just go when the sun isn’t out.” This wasn’t– didn’t feel like– an unreasonable request.

Henrik tinkered some more with the machine, then gathered more equipment. It took time for a response. More thinking. “... I suppose we could.”

There was this feeling in his bones that something was off with his friend. Physical sensations, those were what he had, what he knew. Things he could normally trust. He had this same feeling in his nightmare, for the voice. The liar. But Henrik wasn’t a liar, so why was he feeling this way about him. The voice couldn’t be right that his doctor — his _ friend _ — was a manipulator. And he could prove that with the questions the voice suggested.

“Henrik?” Robbie waited until Henrik looked up at him. “Henrik?” Second time did it. “Why is there no one else in the house?” The doctor dropped his gaze as soon as the final word left. There was a difference in him.

“... why the sudden interest?”

“I was thinking about how there are so many empty rooms in this house. We’re in a big house and there’s only the two of us.” Robbie couldn’t remember investigating the house. Opening doors and seeing other rooms. Did he not choose to, or was he told not to? Did he really need to look to know? His door was the last in the hallway atop the second stairs. He passed every single doorway on his way down. Why was he so far from the lab? There had to be other empty rooms closer, on the first floor.

“They... left.”

“Why?” 

Henrik started writing on his paper. It was faster than normal. Guess there was no answer. Could he not find the words, or did he not know?

Robbie tried to think back to his first days in the house. See if he could remember them. Find a reason. Empty. Always just the two of them. “I don’t remember them.” If Henrik had known Robbie before, maybe that meant he was one of the roommates. Maybe the others couldn’t handle it when he died and then was alive again. “Will I remember them?”

“Robbie, PLEase stop asking these questions!!” Robbie leaned back, away from Henrik. Scariest Henrik had ever been. He didn’t like seeing his friend this way. Didn’t want it to happen again.

“Sorry, Henrik. I–”

“No, I’m, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I guess I’m not stimulating you enough mentally. I’ll– I’ll fix that in the future.” Robbie was going to ask his final question, but it seemed like Henrik had enough. He didn’t get loud like that often. Maybe these questions weren’t such a good idea. 

Black lines and specs starting appearing in his vision. A high pitched sound blared in his ears. Robbie’s hands covered them to try and block it out, but that only made the sound echo more in his head. Henrik was in front of his face, hands covering Robbie’s. The doctor tried to reveal his ears, but Robbie pushed his hands against his head even harder. It felt like something was scratching inside his head, ripping him apart from the inside out. Putting pressure on his head may not have helped, but it was his only comfort from this death-like pain.

A figure appeared behind Henrik. The voice it used was the same as in his sleep. Louder than the static overwhelming all his senses. “Ạ̲̎͠Ṩ̢͗K̯̝̿̚ ̜̹̎̐H̪̯̀̈I̝͂̾͜M̲̯͊͠ ̧̖͒̚A̩̗͘̚B̨͙͑̔O̹̘̓̍U̧̖͛T̪̐̓ͅ ̛̱́͜C̯͎̔̐H̬͓͆́Á̖̝̋S̞̜̔͐E̛̙̗͠ ̞̻̊͝B̬͙̂R̛̮͔̈́Ó͇̳̓Ḍ̼̂̕Ý̳͕͊!”

“FINE!” The disturbances cleared from his head and everything seemed normal again. Robbie blinked a couple of times, just to be sure, and all he saw was Henrik staring at him. His eyes were larger than normal.

“Robbie?” The zombie brought his hands down from his head.

“Henrik…” He had to ask this. “Who is Chase Brody?” The other set of hands released Robbie as the doctor stumbled backwards.

“How- how do you know that name?” He bumped into some metal then fell down to the floor. Robbie stood up, starting to take the wires off.

“The voice told me.” Henrik needed his friend right now.

“Voice?” Robbie shuffled over and reached out his hand. Henrik didn’t seem to notice. Too lost in thought.

“Henrik?” His attention was drawn to the hand. But he didn’t take it.

Static sounds returned, but not as damaging as before. Robbie tried to locate their location, and saw the figure of a man again. A man dressed in all black. “Á̱̺͠ŝ̮̭͐k̰͎̏͐ ̪̠͛̔h̦̳͒͌i͔̳̒̒m̢̳̉̚ ̖̪̏̓a̮̲͌̊b̨͈̋̔o͖̝̓͆ũ̖̟͠t̗̜͗̅ ̛͉͎͑ẖ̦̈́͝i̧̢̋̈́s̝͎̉̄ ̠̞̅͝ď̖̬͂ḙ̣̈́̄a̭̻͊̓ḽ͕̍̈.̛͚̟̕” The man raised a hand and a green fire started growing in his palm. “Ô̠̑͜r̗͔͌͊ ̝̪͒͠Ï̺̊͜ ̝̰͂̈́c̛͙̳̆o̹̎͆͜u͎̲̒̅ļ̡̇͗d̩̘̍͛ ̈t̉͑o̘͒̄͜r̙͙̋t͕̦̐́u̱̠̾̇r͈̝̅ê͖͓͋ ̻̺̊̂i̪̲̽͝t̝̠͊̈ ̝͈̃̚ŏ̫̹̈́ṳ̚͜t̘͉̆̈́ ̛̩͚o̟͜͠f̹̳̍̿ ͔̥͑͂h̙̩̾̃ị́̌͜m͓̜̈̌.̦͇̓͝.̼͕͑.̳̤̾͠ ̢̬̌̌Y̯̌͝ͅỏ̫̙̈ṷ̩̄͠ȑ͚̬̇ ̡̲̀̾c̼̟͛̌ẖ̻͌̓o̡̗͑̏į̧̈́̿c̝̠̾̇e͔̹͐̓.” He smiled, but in a way that wasn’t quite right. It looked like a man, yet nothing like Henrik or Robbie. But, he didn’t want his friend to be hurt.

“Did you make a deal?”

“Where is he?!” Henrik stood up on his own, ignoring Robbie altogether. The doctor was turning around every which way. “Where is HE!!?” Did he not see the man?

“Ḧ̗̻́̈́e̙͔̽͝'͈̖͊̅s̜̠̄͘ ͕̗̆̒d̩̬̆͛ỏ̹̂͜d̬̖̋̓g͖̝͊i̘̥͑͒n̡̯̓͝g̖͓̽̋” Flames grew bigger, brighter.

“Friend.” Robbie grabbed Henrik’s shoulders and made the doctor face him. “You need to answer me.”

“He’s manipulating you Robbie. Don’t believe him.” There was that word again. Manipulate.

“He’s not telling me anything Henrik. And neither are you.”

“He’s trying to break me. Robbie, you need to leave right now.” Henrik was talking faster, and louder. Not loud like before. More like when he was telling Robbie to do a test.

“I can’t do that, Henrik.” That flaming man could kill Henrik, but he couldn’t kill what was already dead. “You need to answer the questions so that he doesn’t hurt you.” Robbie looked over Henrik’s shoulder at the man. That grin made Robbie feel like a hole. Flames flared to the sky, then calmed back down.

“M͎͓͂̈́y͔͉̔ ̮̤͗̍p̂̀a͊̋t̞͎̍̋i̥̙͛̕e͙͇͐̽n̩̤͂̚c̨̡̀͂e̼̬͆̒ ͖͕̊ȉ̳̆ͅs͎̭̎̾ ̤͖̋̚w͎̙͘͝ḙ̝̈́̄ả͉̼̔r̮͔͛̆ḯ̞̗͒n̙̆͝ͅg̲̩̎̚ ̞̪͒t̞͖͌͘h͈͐̽͜i͓̝͌͝n̜̤̈.” Robbie flashed back to Henrik. He shook the doctor, trying to get him to answer.

“Please Henrik!”

“Fine!” Robbie stopped. “He has my family. If I cure you, then I get them back.”

Family? Henrik had a family? He never had talked about them. Robbie had never asked. But Henrik felt like a family to Robbie. Why couldn’t Henrik just say that?

“G̟̥̈́̐ŏ̯͉͂ǒ̡͓̕d̡͒̏͜,͚͚͛ ̧͔͋͝y̥̪͗̚ȏ͕̣̕u͎͔̓̂'̦̮̋͝r̰̙̅̕ẻ͍̣̎ ̲͓̈́̃ṗ͇͙͝u̢̯͌͛t̡̫̃t̰͙̆͘i͕̹̒̆n͇̼̍̈́ĝ̟̦͝ ̻͖́̅i̠͉̒͆t̼̗̆̆ ̻͈̈́͌t̞͖̚͝ȏ̺̣́g̨͈̐e̖̓̐ͅt̹̳͛̐ĥ̺̣̃e̻̘͌̐r̲̭ ̨̟͋̎n̟̹̔̑o̭̼̊̈w̘̹͛͝.̒̊..̓͗” Could that man read his thoughts? Nothing felt good right now. This whole situation was wrong.

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Because…” There was that feeling in his bones, and now his stomach too. “At this point, I think any cure that works will kill you.”

“But I’m already dead.”

“Kill you permanently. You wouldn’t come back again. Your brain…" Henrik looked away from Robbie. "I don’t know if there’s enough left that you could still function if I cured you… I’m sorry Robbie.”

Permanently. No coming back. That first nightmare, the cure, that’s what it would be like? Death? And Henrik knew a cure would kill him? Robbie started feeling intense boiling. The same kind as when he threw Henrik across the room in his nightmare. But he wouldn’t do that to Henrik. He had been his friend… A friend, that was plotting to kill him.

“Please Robbie, I’m sorry.” Henrik was looking back at Robbie, no longer the calm collected person he had always been. But Robbie just stared blankly back at him. Then his vision started going red. He threw Henrik to the ground and stormed off. Towards the exit, up the stairs. “Please don’t walk out that door, Robbie. I’m trying to make it work. So you can live. Please.” The zombie turned. Even through the distortion, he could see the blood. Smell it. And something more. Something, like food. His legs started to move and the doctor lowered his head in defeat.

The sound of the door slamming startled him from his stance on the floor though. Bleeding, Henrik remained there, thankful that his zombie hadn’t decided to eat him. The poor sap had started to care for him, and maybe, that unbeating heart had started caring too.

“S̫͈̑̈e̲͉̎̽e̳̿,͆͝ ̔̌n͖̱͋̚ơ̮̬̈́w̩͈͂ ̮͍̈́t̹̫͌͂h̬͉̒͛a̛͇͍̓ṯ̡̈́̅ ̠̹̆̓w̝̤͗̉a͍̬͛́s͕͓̍̊n̹͔͑͗'̘̺̌͝t̨͈͌̈ ̡̬̀̀t̟̝̆ö̢͓͗ò̹̩͌ ̲̞͂͐h͔̦̾̂a͙̲͂̎r̜̙̅̕d̬̮̉͂,̲̹̏ ̙̤͌̽n̠̘̎͋o͍̞͋̎ẉ͉̑͑ ̛͔͆ͅẇ̯̼̏ȁ̡̛̩s̫̈̒ͅ ̡͇͐ì̯̬͠t͇̮͛͘.͙̰̃͆” A boot pressed into the small of the doctor’s back, crushing him into the concrete below.

Henrik spit some bloody saliva from his mouth. “What do you want you bastard?”

“Ī̛̠͜ ̜̥́̄t̨̛̳̓h̨͈͂͂ȉ͉̣ǹ͚̩͝k̲̝̏͝ ̺̔̎ͅd̡̰̊̓ẹ̡̎͋a̯̺̅͂r̻̤̊͑ ̨̺̅̀R̝̉͗͜ỏ̳̙̐b̦̜̆͠b͕̹͗̕i̞̻̍͑e̼̥̾́ ̡͍͆̀d̡̤̏͂ḝ̱̓s̲͔͗̅e̢̞̿̋ȑ̞̯̿v̦͓̋͐e̞͑͆ͅs̫̖͛͐ ̦̥͛̏ţ͎̈́͛h͚̆̈́ͅe̻͕̓͋ ̣̼̄͗w̡̯͐̄ĥ̭͋͜o̻̲̅͐l̘̳̈́͛e̢͇̍̏ ̱͚̓̅t͚̼̽̃ṟ̩͌̎ǘ̻͚̅t͕̹͊͠h̠̦͐.͇̠̉͝ T̛̠͖͘h̯̜̏̑a̧̫̿̕t̢̫̐̇ ͎̞͊̇ḯ̙̖͘s̠̼͒, ̨̦̎͝i̞͒̓f ̥͊͆͜y̰̩͗͝ô͓͈u͖͍̽̾ ̨̡̛͛e̯͙̊̔v̺̬͆̓ẽ̲͚̋r̗͇͛̚ ̫̭̑̾w͇̦͐̒a͈͍͗͝n̻̭͂͝t̮̬͗͂ ̧̥̈͝t̗̰̂̚o͚͊̾͜ ̱͂̈́͜s͕̮͒̇è͖̟̓e̘͘͜ ̦̘͐̂y̳͋̋ͅo͎̩͐̚ụ̥͒̽r͉͉͋̑ ̢͚̄̿f͔͈̾̓a̜̙͊̐m̹͔̒͠i̳̖̽ĺ̨̤̍y̡͍̔̆ ̣͛̋ͅa̡̩͗͐g͉̲̃͋ä͓̀͜ȉ̘̼̐n̡̻͐̈́.” The heel dug into the spinal cord.

Henrik pressed his teeth together to try and endure the pain.“We have our deal. That’s not part of it.”

“Ȋ̦'̳̈́m̖͛ ̼̀a̯̐d̟̀d̜͑i͙̓n͈̍g̼̈́ ̫͑i̧̽t͚̓ ͔͆o̭̕ṉ̄.͆͜”

“You can’t.. do that.”

Pressure increased on the broken doctor as the demon lowered his head until his lips grazed Henrik’s ear.“O͎͕͗̅ẖ͙̈́̽,̟̈́̎ͅ ̱̝̔̃y̖͓͗e̤̗̓͠s̺͉̃̆ ̢͌͠ͅI͖̅͜͝ ̬̯̈́̉c̦̖̀̚ä̡̳́̅ń̦̪͊.̜̣̈͘ ̛͇͕̃Ḅ̒̀ë̩́̈́c̹͓͂a̰̥̎͊ů̺̙̿š͕̯̓ĕ̘̞̈,̊̅ ̞͑͘͜_d͎̥͌͘e͉͈̊̋ą͈͆̄ȓ̜̙͐ ̒̚ͅd̞͗͠ö̖́̓c̣͑̆t͎̓̊ō̮̇ȓ̖̈́͜_,͐ y͉̲̽̾o͙̘͐̀ū͓̥̃ ͈̦̆͠h̭̮̐̆à̱͍͂v̞̜̏͝e̹̜̚ ͕̭͐͌n̻̱͆̄ö̡͓ l͇̿̂ẹ̊͊ṽ̢̥͠ë̢͚̕r̨̥̔a̟̹̿͘g̠̖̚͠e̢͉͐̌.̤̓̓ͅ ̜̤̍Ṋ͖͐͝o̘̗͊̈́t͇͓̿͠h̗̽̿ͅi̻̜͐͘n͓̟̊͠g͙͈̍̚ ̮̱̈́ẗ̮̜͝o͕̼͑͒ ̞̃̇͜ḫ͈̽̅o͔͉͊̂l̨̯̏̃d̫̬̆͝ ̡̨̀o̜̬̾͘v͓͚̆͆e̖͖̽̈́r̯͎̈́͠ ͉̏̕ͅm͓̙̓̔ẹ͓̒̇.̜̪̾́ ̧̻̄́Ḇ̘̈́͝û̧̲̔t̥͍͐̿ ̊̊ͅI͐͜,̊͒ ̨̛͕͐I̱͘͝ ̥͐̾c͖̓̎e̳͆̿r̲̈̏t͎͐̇a̛̤̚i͝n̰̿̎ĺ̛͓y̦̝͑͠ ̳̭̃̋ḧ̖̙͂ä̞͕́͊v̫̽̌ͅė̝͙ ̭̹̍̊p̞͝͠ḽ̃͑ḛ̅̉n̝̚͘ẗ̟́͝ŷ̫͠ ̨̌̾ö̪́̽f̛̲̋ ̜̓̚h̾͑o̳̓͘l̗̎͂d̰̈́̅ ͓̔̽o̢̓͒v̞̾̈́e͇̊̊r͉̽͆ ̮͗̌y̟̒̆o̩̾̚u̹̰̔. Ỳ͕o̫͠û̗'̻͐r̭̕e̡̿. ̳͐My̘̕. ͖̔ Pū̩p̣͌p͇̍e̮ţ̐.̟͍́͘” It started cackling, the incessant laughter that had haunted Henrik’s sleep, tormented him. All he could do was lay there, the taste of blood filling his mouth and trickling out from his wounds. He was powerless to this. He had to tell Robbie if he ever wanted to see them again. And that was what he spent months working towards. They were the only thing that kept him going.

“Fine.”


	4. Dark Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: gun, blood, knife

Robbie couldn’t see right. Couldn’t think right. He forced himself to make it up to his room and shut himself in. Everything was too much. Red. Blood. Hunger. Rage. Red. Rage.

He started throwing whatever he could get his hand on. The hard papers. Curious shaped hard objects. Soft objects. Clothes. Toppling the wood furnitures. Destroying the place he slept. Letting it all fall in disarray, and still no relief. He banged his head against the wall. Again. Again. Smack. Hit. Dent. Again. Bang. Strike. Knock. Crash. Crash. Crash.Crashcrashcrashcrash

When he opened his eyes, the room was like he left it. Illuminated chaos. And he was on the mangled bed. It didn’t feel like sleep. Time passed, but it didn’t. Robbie sat up slowly. His body slid into the hole he made in his mattress. Bits of dust were scattered around him, mixed with the various stuffings.

Placing a hand on his head, it felt... flatter. Maybe torn too. He couldn’t see what he looked like. At least he could see normally now. Well, not red. Everything seemed a bit foggier than before. Tilting up to the left, he noticed where he smashed his head. There were cracks. Parts missing. Another hole. It was bad. Just like the rest of the room. But he was clear now.

Robbie started thinking about what he had learned about his doctor. He had made a deal: cure Robbie and see his family. It didn’t seem right that he gambled with Robbie’s life. But, he was also working to give Robbie a living life. And he would see his family. That wasn’t so bad. Not nice, but not bad. 

The cure would kill Robbie though. That’s what he said. But he was working on it so that it didn’t. But, how could he be certain it would kill him? Was it something in the tests? Was something different in him than in a normal person? Was he missing something? Something normal people had that he didn’t? Something needed to live?

They hadn’t tried a cure in a long time. The last time was in his dream. Before then... he couldn’t remember. If the doctor knew it meant death, and he wasn’t trying it, then he wasn’t trying to kill Robbie. It had just been tests for such a long time. He had never made any promises about a cure. Robbie hadn’t asked either. The doctor may not have told him everything, but he didn’t lie to Robbie. It was wrong what he did, but Henrik wasn’t hurting him. They were still friends, right?

A subtle tapping rang through the room. “Robbie? May I come in to talk to you?” Henrik was softer than normal.

Maybe he was going to explain. “Okay. Be careful.” His room was still a mess.

The solid door opened slowly. Robbie could hear as it pushed things around on the floor. Shoes pushed more things out of the way and were placed carefully to find a path in the mess. Henrik’s eyes wandered around the room. “You uh... Are you still angry?” Robbie noticed that there was a sticky patch on Henrik's head, placed over the area where there was blood earlier. It was holding his skin together, kind of like what Henrik did for Robbie when he got a cut.

“I’m not seeing red anymore.” Henrik moved in further to a chair that was toppled over. He straightened it out and moved to sit down on it. It took some time though, for him to sit. His eyes shut tight and his hands were in fists gripping the chair. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ll be fine.” Once he touched the seat, Henrik let his body relax a little. “I need to tell you some things though.”

“Okay friend.” Robbie sat up straighter and looked directly at Henrik. It was a trick Henrik taught him, to let Henrik know he was listening.

“A while ago, my brother was in an accident. And, he got hurt. Really hurt. I made a deal with God, or whoever was listening, that I would do anything if they gave him back. So, when he got better, I thought it was a miracle and that someone up there was listening. I thought that things would be better. I was wrong about that.

“As soon as I brought him home, he started behaving strangely. Acted differently around our other brothers, started forgetting simple things, different mannerisms. It was like he was a different person. I– I just brushed it off as trauma from the accident, but the others didn’t believe that. I wish I would have believed them then.

“I got a phone call one day, from his phone. A strange voice told me they’d kidnapped my brothers and where to find them. So, I went to the address I was given to try and negotiate. I brought some money and a gun, just as a precaution since the voice didn’t make any demands. When I got there though, I saw that my brother, the one who was hurt, was the kidnapper. But, he wasn’t my brother anymore. Just looked like him. He called himself Antisepticeye. My brothers were all restrained and looked beaten up. I threatened to shoot this Anti, but then he... well, he hurt my youngest brother. And in that moment, Anti was the only thing keeping him alive. I couldn’t shoot.

“I felt powerless, just like I had before. My brother, all my brothers, were hurt and I couldn’t do anything about it. Anti must have sensed that, because he proposed a deal. My brothers would be returned to me, alive, if I could help him solve a different problem. That’s when he threw you out from the shadows. He told me to ‘cure you of your affliction’ if I ever wanted to see my family again. Then he vanished, as did my brothers.

“So, I checked on you. You weren’t breathing and you had no pulse. I started doing chest compressions to try and revive you, and you just, woke up. Sat straight up and took a deep breath. I took your pulse again, and it wasn’t there. You didn’t seem to remember anything that had happened to you or who you were. I didn’t know how you were alive, but I knew I needed to help you. I told you that I was an old friend so that you would come with me. And... I’ve been trying to cure you ever since.” Henrik bent his head down and started rubbing his wrist with his thumb. It looked like he was taking his own pulse, like he did with Robbie. But, this wasn’t that.

Robbie let his body fall onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Blank surfaces helped him stay clear. Process everything. Hopefully, not lose control. “So, you don’t know me.” 

“I know that you were someone who did something illegal. If anyone saw you, they’d take you back to jail, which is why we don’t go outside. But, no, I don’t know who you were.” Henrik did lie.

“What is illegal?” Didn’t sound good. Neither did jail.

“It’s um, when you do something that people think is really bad. Bad enough that they want to keep you far away from them, in jail, for a while.” Robbie was... a bad person? Did something bad?

“Why me?” If he was someone bad, why try and save him?

“I, don’t know why Anti chose you.”

“Why **help **me? I was a bad person. You didn’t know what I did or what bad thing you could be curing?”

“Didn’t matter. I wanted my family back.” Of course he did. If Henrik went missing, Robbie would do anything to get him back. “But, that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about your well being too.”

Robbie breathed in and out. And again. “You can’t cure me, can you.” Henrik wasn’t saying anything. Robbie could hear him breathing though. Large breaths. “You had said a cure would kill me.”

Henrik exhaled for a long time. Robbie sat up in his bed. The doctor was slumped over in his chair. “That is what I said.”

“Henrik?” Another long breath. “Henrik.” He didn’t look up. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t want to... But I’m also trying... I’m _ trying _ not to give up hope. I haven’t made a cure that works, yet.”

“But, you said that if it worked, I couldn’t function. Why would you say that?... Am I missing something? Something needed to live?” Henrik wasn’t looking up. He rubbed his eyes and went back to his original form. Not looking.

“I was...” Another breath. “I was doing an EEG to see where you had brain activity. I was hoping that maybe it would be different. That maybe...” The man dropped his head into his hands. His breathing became more audible and came in shorter bursts. Robbie had never seen him like this. Crumpled up on himself and so, unsure of his words. It felt... strange, for Robbie, whenever he couldn’t find the words. Maybe that’s how Henrik felt right now. Strange.

“It’s okay Henrik. I’m here for you.” That’s what Robbie had always been told when he had trouble.

“Robbie...” Henrik made a lot of sounds and different breaths. He finally lifted his head up, but it looked like it was hard to keep it there. His eyes were red. “No matter what I do, you’re dead! They’re dead! I’ve let you all down because I can’t _ save _ ANY of you! Don’t you get that?!” Water droplets shed from his eyes down his face.

Robbie didn’t feel himself move, but he found his legs carried him over to the chair and his arms wrapped around his friend. Henrik was just, shaking. Had trouble breathing. But Robbie felt better, being there for him. He didn’t know why or what he was doing, but it felt good. Right.

“I’m sorry Robbie.” It sounded like the words were choking him.

“I know.” It sounded like – felt like – Henrik couldn’t do anything more to help Robbie. Like he was finished, giving up. Robbie didn’t want to give up; he wanted to help whatever way he could. “I wanna help you get your family back.”

“You don’t have–”

“You’re family to me. I can’t imagine losing you. So, I wanna help.” Robbie felt his lips curl upwards. Henrik pulled away and looked at the small attempt at a smile. It made him laugh, which made Robbie smile more and back away to give his friend some space.

“Thank you Robbie. I.. I really appreciate that. But, there is.. is no cure.”

“But, you said a cure would kill me. For sure. How?”

“Anatomical markers. You were right. There are...” He took a big breath. Two. “..Things missing. Even if I could cure you, you couldn’t live... There is no cure for death. I can’t cure death. It’s just a fantasy that I tried to make real.”

“Yes you can. You can do anything.”

“I’m not a magician, Robbie... I’m just a doctor.” Magician. Was that just a different doctor that could fix death?

“But if there’s no cure, then you can’t see your family.” Henrik bent over again, nodding yes when his face was finally out of Robbie’s view.

“The only other _ cure _ I can think of, is something I don’t want to happen.” There was another option? 

“Tell me it. I want to help.”

Robbie could see Henrik's chest expand. Henrik held it there for a long time before letting it fall again. “Killing you could be a cure. Death is a cure to any affliction because it relieves you of your disease. Can’t be a living dead if your not living anymore.” That made Henrik smile a small bit, but it faded quickly.

Death. Real death. That was his way to help. It wouldn’t be easy to be dead. But his other option was to keep living with his friend who was hurting. Running pointless tests that wouldn’t lead to a cure. Robbie’s family was Henrik, but Henrik wouldn’t see his if Robbie wanted to keep staying with Henrik. He was a dead man, living or not. Was it really okay to make him hurt just so Robbie wouldn’t? Robbie didn’t even really feel pain, Henrik did.

“How do we kill me?” Henrik’s eyes shot up at him.

“Robbie, do you understand what you’re asking?”

“Your family needs you to cure me. Don’t they? And killing me is a cure. So, how do we kill me?” The doctor moved from the chair, folding his arms around his friend. Both on the floor. Robbie did the same thing to Henrik. He heard the breaths become short and stuttered again. 

It was like this for a time. It didn’t make sense to Robbie. Why was Henrik still holding him? Didn’t he want to see his family? Why take so long just sitting here? Robbie tried to wiggle free from Henrik, but it was no use. Why was he holding onto Robbie so tight?

Eventually, the doctor finally let him go. “So, um, the only way that I can think of killing you is to destroy your brain. Destroys the controls, and the system won’t work.” Robbie didn’t understand that, but he assumed it had to do with the brain. “And the easiest way to do that,” Henrik reached behind him, “is to shoot you.” He pulled something black and metal from behind his back. It didn’t look familiar to Robbie. Not like any of the other medical instruments Henrik used either.

“What is that?”

“It’s a gun. Shoots bullets, which should kill you. You shouldn’t feel any pain this way.” Henrik stood up slowly. “Stay sitting. It’ll make this easier.” Robbie did as he was told. The doctor made his way behind Robbie. The zombie felt something pressed against the back of his head. Probably the gun. “Robbie... are you sure... you want to die. You can’t come back from it this time.”

Robbie turned his head around to try and meet Henrik’s eyes. “Will it get you back your family?”

“...I hope so.”

“Then I’m okay.” Henrik turned the zombie’s head so that it was facing away from him.

“Thank you, friend.” Robbie nodded. He wondered what would happen after death. If he would remember Henrik after it. He didn’t want to forget him. The kindness of his friend. The only person he knew. Maybe he could— 

..---

.----

-... .- -. --.

..-. .- .-.. .-..

-.. . .- -..

\--.- ..- .. . -

\-----

\-----

\-----

“I̛̤ ͕̉ḑ̎i̫͑d̾n̥̒’̮͠t̯̒ ̓ͅe̙̽x͉̉p͑ḙ̈́c͎̿t̬͗ ̩̅ȳ͉o͒͜ũ͓ ̠̈́ẇ̜o̠̎ũ̹l̨̛d͈̈́ ̗͌ä͙c̱͐ṱ̛ûȃ̖lly̫͆ ͚͌d̠̓o̙̔ ̖̏i͈̎ț̆ ̮͋d̜̕ỏ̭c͙͋t̮̾o̜̚ṛ̏.”

“What the hell can you do to me now, glitch.” Henrik fell back onto the destroyed bed, gun still in hand. It felt hot. His entire body felt hot, and cold.

“͈̕O̼b̹͐s͠e̱͐r̆v̰͘a̩̔t̡͒ì̺ŏn̖͒s̺̔ ͈́is ̹̅a̻͐ll̛̮.̱͌ ̥̒I̢͋t̻͌’̭̌s̺͗ ̰͑q͉̕ú̯i̬͝t͜e͖͝ ̀͜c̡̔l̹̐ė͎v͚͂e͖͛r̼͝,̮ ͖͠t̯͝h̖ä̰́t̗̓ ‘_ de͖͊a̤t̥͌ẖ̏ ̝̇i͎͊s̛͖ ̠̈t͔͆h̤̓ḙ̛ ̟͌ć̠u͇̎r̪̈́e _ ’ ǐ̖ḏ̃ë̪ą.̞̆ T̺͒h̭̋o͈͌u̖͋g͚h̻͒,̓͜ ͉́i̡t̖̂ ̀͜w͓̅ȃ̤s̛̞n̯̑’̣̚ẗ̯́ ̜͝r͇̀e̱͌a̘ĺ̥l̢͝y͍̾ _ ̛͎ẙ͜o̢͋u̱͐ṛ͒ _ ̮͗i͈̾ḓ̄ȩ͛a͊ͅ, w̙̃ȧ̲s͉͆ it.”

Henrik sat up to look him– it in the eye. Tears were constantly running. Contrasting against his cheeks, letting him know blood — steaming blood— was still running through him. Still alive. “Look, I did what you said. We have a deal.”

“H̞̎m̖̈,͈̈́ ̜̽y̢̆e̊ͅs̖͝.̜̒..” Antisepticeye brought out a knife. He ran a finger along the edge of the blade, making a small cut in the process. A droplet of blood formed on his fingertip. Smearing it along the side, musing, he continued. “P̿͜ȓ̮o̹͂b̏͜ļ̕ẻ͔m̪ ̘̎i̹̓s̮͌, ỵ̎o̥͆u͚̚ ̰̎d̹̆ȉ̞d͇ṇ̄’͈̌t̬͆ ̪̑k͕̒e̼̕e͖͂p̝͂ ̮y̯̏ō̘u͇ṟ̅ ̲͂e̜͂ṅ̫d̺̂ ̟̓ö̜́f͖͝ ̖̂ț̎h̡̓e̲͝ ̛̠d̲͋ë̮́a̗̽l̲̐.”

“Yes I did.” Henrik was moved to his feet. “I did what you asked! I cured Robbie of his zombie nature. I told him the truth. That was our deal!”

“O͝ͅu͔͆ŗ͂ ͈̉d̡̕e͈̚ȁ͇l͛,” Two steps towards the doctor, stepping over the now wasted body, “W̩̊a͖̔ṣ̾ ̨͗f̧̓o̳͒r͇̅ ̹̎y̓o̓ü ͗ṱ̃o̒ ̺̈́te͌l͠l tḧ̹́e͙̎ ͎̑e̩͌n̗̓t͔͗ȉ̞r̨̛ē̩ ̦̇ṱ̑r̞̊u̮̿t̜́h̰͐.̺̋ ̞̎Ȧ̩n̪͐d̜̉ ̝̎ã͍s̗̅ ̱͝Í̧ ̛̜r̙͛e̩̅c̻͝ȃ̫l̺̇l̻̄, ͝ẗ͖́h̠̚ĕ̝r̠͋e͉͂ ̤͋w̟͋a̜̍ș͂ ̖͛ö̦́n͔̎e̹͂ ̗͝thĭn͇̐g̗͆ ̨͌m̟̔ĭ̫ŝ͔s͉̿i͔̅n͙̕g͂.̑..” A sound. Wind. There wasn’t time to react, just see the effect. The knife embedded in the wall. Right past Henrik’s ear, and stuck just on the edge of the hole. Blood contrasted the shine. Henrik pulled it from the wall. Something written. **CHASE**. “D͉̅ȉ͓d́n̢’̾t t̏a͓͠l͓̓k̨̒ ̜̋ą͠b̻̀o͖͠ụ̆t̼̍ ͍̋h͕͂i͉̓m͗͜,̹̇ ̩̍ḓ͒i̤̚d̝̾ ̞́ŷ͇o̯͑ụ̒?̜”

“I- I did. I told him that you–”

“Y̥͒o͙͆u̮̾ṛ̌_ h̉u͗rt̍ _ ͕̌b̖̒ṙ͕ó̳th͑er̍. ͔̈́N̆e͎̐v̟́e͝r̨̓ ͝s̄aï̞d̢͗ ̪̓h̆i̥̒s ̙̐n̮͝a̓m͓͋e̲͆.̞̇ ͚̾Ǹ̲ö̺́t ̣̄t͓͗ḣ̠e͝ ͈͝w͉̏h̆ö̹́l̳e͓͘ ̨̈́t̢̏r̖̆u̧̚t̖h̳̐ ͊ab̼̓o̩̓u̒t͊ ̼͛h̛oẃ̡ ͔͆y̠͂õ̝ȗ ͊l̽e͗t̓ ͐hi͂m͝ ̨̓d̍o̍w̧͊n̆. P͋l̋a͂ye͌d͝ ̰̈́ẃi̓t̑h̚ ͓̑h̻͘i̕s̋ l̢͘ḯfȇ ͍͝a͆n͔̄d̼̄ ̳͐lo͠sẗ́ i̳̔ť. H͐ǒ̼ẅ̭ ͚̎y̥o̹͠u̬̓’̼̏r̞͒e̡͝ ̯̉š͙u̙̿ch̪̋ ͕͝a͚͑ ̨͘d̏ȋs̢͝a͘p͌p̖͝ǒ̺ińt͕̃m̻͘ę̏n͕̈́t͓̊ ̣̉t͙̆o͚̓ ̡̍h̘̿i̘̽m̜͋.”

“Stop it!” Henrik spun around, blade tip threatened to be used on Anti.

“Č͙a̛r͛ȇ̻f̯̂u̠͒ļ̀ ̹̍n̝͒o̺w̠̾.̍ W̋o̥u̪l̲d͝ͅn̝̍’̺͗t̗̆ ̩̏w̪͂a̪͝n̲̉t to͚͂ ḓ̅â̢m̹͐ä̹́g̢̑è͙ h̥̆i͍͠m͖͑,͝ w̳̄ȯ̜u͙͋l͊d̑ ̥̂yo̘͂u͙̅?̦̐” He wore that playful smile Chase always had with his kids. Corrupted. A mockery. Henrik couldn’t hurt his brother, even if it wasn’t his brother anymore. His grip loosened and the knife clattered on the ground. “B͕̕ú̙t̂, t̆ë́l̾l̼̍ ̱̋ỷ̺ō̭u̅ ẉ̉h̹̄ą̏t̗͐. I̒’m͕̽ ͙f̱͆e͖͐e͎l̼͊i͔̓ň̳ǵ͉ ë̩s͕̏p͈̚ĕ͜c̝ȉ̭a̜̐l̔ly̬... ̥̇m̱͗ą͂g̪̑n̙͛ḁn̬̓i͔̊m̞̍ö̯u̞̐ŝ͍ ͎̓t͍̕o̗̽ḍ͑ä̱́y͕̅.” The demon stepped even closer to his prey. Plucking the knife from the floor, he started playing with it, letting the tip dance on the doctor. “Ý̩ơͅu’rḙ́ ä̰ ũ͇ŝ̤e̟̋f͔̌ŭ̺ḽ̑ p̮̍u̿pp̧̈e̼͑t̢́ w͕̆h͓̏o ḍ̇e̯͂s̤͋e̟͘r͈̀v͙̊ḙŝ̥ to͈̊ b̝̒e̥͛.̊..̛ r͕̉ẻ̦w̙̕a̫͐r̪͌d͕͊e̞̍d͇̆.”

A glint flashed as the knife was drawn back. Black mist surrounded Antisepticeye as he left Henrik alone with his dead friend. The doctor fell to his knees, covering his eyes to shut out the rest of the world. The smoke cleared, and then a thud.

Henrik peeked out with one eye half open. There was more than one body on the floor. And one of them was moving. Without hesitation, Henrik crawled over to the other person. Their face, that face, _ the _face. Chase. Not tainted with black veins, or blood, or those dagger eyes. But Chase. And he was wide-eyed, staring up at Henrik. He wanted to talk, but that wasn’t possible.

There was a shirt near them. Chaos wasn’t so bad right now. Henrik bundled it up and pressed it against Chase’s neck. “I’m here Chase. I’m here.” Chase’s tongue danced around in his mouth, working tirelessly, but all in vain. “Don’t talk. You have a cut on your throat. I don’t want you to bleed out.” Henrik didn’t know how deep the damage was, or if he could help Chase, but he was going to do his damndest to not let him go this time. “I’ve got you.” Meeting Chase’s eyes for a brief moment, Henrik flashed a half smile. The taste of salt was on his lips. Chase moved his arm to grab Henrik’s. There was a small smile on his face too. Brief, but it was there. No way he was letting Chase die this time.


	5. Dark Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase is back with Henrik. But is he really, truly back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: grief, mention of suicide

It had been days – ten days – since Chase was back. But it didn’t feel like that. Didn’t feel the same. Nothing was the same. How could it be?

The cut on Chase’s neck wasn’t too damaging. Doctors were able to stitch him up. But they wouldn’t release him for a couple of days. Obvious why. Slit across the throat. Worried friend. Not exactly a leap to think it was a suicide attempt. Eventually though, Chase was released. Henrik didn’t know what he said to convince them, and Chase wouldn’t talk about it either. His brother went silent with him. All silent.

When they got home, Chase went straight upstairs. Henrik let him go. Best to let him do what he needed to. The doctor made some grilled cheese sandwiches in the kitchen. Hospital food was decent, but never really satisfying. As soon as the cheese started melting off, Henrik slid it from the pan to a plate. He grabbed one of the water bottles from the fridge and started heading up the stairs. Chase would probably be hungry by now.

Traversing the stairs was, different. Steps seemed taller and narrower. It was harder to find his way up. The last time he had walked up... He hadn’t done anything with Robbie... Later. After Chase. Chase was his patient now.

Once at the top, Henrik heard the sounds of the floor creaking. He headed down the left side of the hall, towards the noise. Last door: Jamie’s room. It was open, and Chase was lying on the bed. Henrik made his way in and sat next to Chase. The doctor talked, but there wasn’t any response. No glimmer of recognition that he was even there. So, he left the food on the bedside table. Chase would eat it when he was ready.

Henrik checked on Robbie’s room next. It was originally going to be Chase’s room before all the madness ensued. A converted study that ended up being Robbie’s living quarters. To Henrik’s dismay, the room had changed. Less disarray, and no body. No blood. No indicators of the trauma that had taken place. It wasn’t right.

Robbie’s bedroom, that room was sectioned off and locked. No one could, or should enter it. All the other bedroom doors were open. Always open. Space was a luxury that Henrik couldn’t afford with Chase. Not that physical space was the only space there was.

Every day was the same routine. Henrik would make some kind of meal, something that could go cold, typically fruit and a small sandwich. Not that he ever ate it. Glass of water with vitamins mixed into it. He was lucky if Chase drank from the glass at all during a day. Enough to keep going, but...

There was a wooden chair Henrik kept in the hall. He stationed it outside of whichever room Chase holed himself up in. Once, Henrik tried to sit next to the bed, but that.. didn’t end well.

There wasn’t any pattern to Chase anymore. Bouncing around between the different bedrooms. Spending different amounts of time in each one. Different places he resided within too. Jamie’s desk, Marvin’s floor, Jackie’s beanbag. Their beds too. Different still when he interacted with items. Jackie’s red hoodie on, he sat beside Marvin’s window. Clutching Marvin’s mask, he would sit cross legged on Jamie’s bed. Jamie’s bow-tie in hand, he pressed himself against Jackie’s walls. Watched Jamie’s camcorder in Marvin’s room. Jackie’s cape like a blanket on Jamie’s bed. Marvin’s candles beside him on Jackie’s table.

Passing out sometimes. Other times, just seeing everything. Maybe clutching some objects. Wearing some of their stuff. And Henrik would just follow. Making sure he was still alive, moving the food and drink as Chase did. A few times reminding Chase to take care of himself, but that never worked. Wouldn’t even acknowledge that Henrik was there. 

Most of the time, once Chase got into a place, he would curl up and sleep. Crying, whether there were actual tears or not. One thing that Henrik knew was that at least Chase slept. Too much, and by the looks of it, restless sleep, but still sleep.

Henrik tried his best to stay awake most of the time. Even if 80% of the time Chase was sleeping, Henrik felt he couldn’t. What if something happened? What if Chase finally broke? What if Anti came back for him? What if Chase ending up doing something? It wasn’t healthy for him to stay up so long. He justified it for himself though. Ate regular meals, drank a large amount of water (also mixed with vitamins), and had an unreasonable amount of caffeine. Took showers to try and stave off the exhaustion and keep his own routine going.

The quiet was the worst part. White noise from the processes of the house was keeping it from being a deafening silence. Henrik had to have music playing when he cooked to keep himself from feeling insane. God only knows what Chase’s mind was like at this point.

Chase only knew what his mind was like at this point.

Henrik hoped Chase knew what his mind was like.

But whatever Anti...

...

Chase... he would have gone through a lot.

If he was dead and Anti brought him back...

If he was alive...

...

...

Henrik was still sane. He hoped. 

...

..

.

Shaking. Shaken awake. Eyelids heavy, but he forced them open. Slumped over near the wall. On the floor. He’d passed out. An arm. Chase’s arm. Following it back, Chase was sitting against the wall. Once their eyes met, Chase retracted his arm. Henrik moved his arms so that they supported his body weight, then pushed himself up off the ground. Tired, but he got it so he was sitting, leaned against the wall, next to his brother.

Smell. Chase had a different smell on him. His hair was wet. Dripping. That smell... that was Marvin. The red hoodie was on him again. Some of Robbie’s ripped jeans too. He was still... missing them. But, he had showered. That was progress. So was the fact that he was sitting with Henrik. Progress.

“Chase?” Chase grabbed an object from outside of Henrik’s view. Jamie’s stuffed shark. He hugged it close to him and nestled it. Missing them a lot more today.

“I remember...” It was quiet, muffled into the stuffed animal.

“What do you remember?” No response. No real acknowledgement. What did he expect. Silence.

“... I remember what he did to me.” Chase’s legs scrunched up. “What he did them...” His face was hidden from view, buried in the shark and the hoodie, hidden behind his hair and his arms. The gutteral sounds of his spasming diaphragm. Lamenting. More painful now that Chase was that close. Too painful. Hurting his heart even more. Henrik’s arms enveloped Chase. Compression. And for what had to be the first time since... he let himself cry. For his own reasons.

For Chase and what he was dealing with. For wanting to be there, but not knowing how. For his brothers that were still missing. For the family that would likely never be reunited. For the months he had lost with them. For not working harder to find them. For letting himself be used. For letting... for killing his friend.

Coughs and spasms. That was what he was left with now. “I– I was... locked away... And he... ...I felt, Wished I would die. That I was dead...” Henrik felt Chase start to lift his head up. He released his brother. Chase looked at his arms. “The scars, they... they aren’t there. But I... can still _ feel _ it... Every fibe–.. ...” Chase ran a finger along some of the vessels in his wrist. Almost in a trance. Tracing lines and then patterns that weren’t there. Invisible scars.

“When I woke up... I got bits and pieces back... The other life– his... ... Those months were already years... and years doubled... more than...

“Each one... Cut... The movements...” Chase pulled the hood over his face and pushed his nose into the sweatshirt. “And he knew... where to hurt them...Where to hurt me... ... Jamie can’t... can’t... ... ... Jackie stayed– fel... Marvin... ... I felt what... ... ...” He hugged the shark tighter. It was nearly flat. “Henrik... ... I don’t... I– I...”

“I’m gonna get them back Chase.” Turning. Attention to Henrik’s word. Nose dripping. Face shallower and paler. Eyes bloodshot. Missing light. Grey, no longer blue. Cracked. Hollow.

“That’s... ...”

“I’ve got this Chase.” Henrik tried to smile, but he didn’t feel it happen. Chase eyes looked up a bit more though. Defeat, but still looking up.

“You... you need to sleep.”

“I will when you’re feeling better.” Henrik tousled Chase’s hair. It was his duty as an older brother to be there, and to make him feel better.

“I... ...” There never was an end to that. Henrik got a feeling it wasn’t an ‘okay.’ But there never was an answer. Whatever Chase went through, witnessed, both... that’s what the others experienced. Everyone was in pain, but Henrik was the only one able to do anything, stable enough. And he was the one Anti seemed most interested in. The one he had a deal with. Someone who would do anything. Do anything to get his family back. They may be broken, but he wouldn’t let them be broken apart.


	6. Dark Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henrik can’t stand not doing anything, not helping Chase. He HAS to do something.

Nightfall. That’s when Chase had fallen asleep. His sudden improvement was fantastic — showered, spoke, even at half a sandwich — but not because of anything Henrik was doing to try and help. Chase had to have been missing their family, the chaos of it all, the sound throughout the house, the impromptu adventures and moments and fun. But all there was, was Henrik. And he couldn’t supply that all by himself, hell, he barely even contributed to the shenanigans when they were happening. Mother Hen, they teased him. Seems that’s what he was good for, but it couldn’t help fill the obvious void Chase felt. Henrik wasn’t sure how long Chase would last before something would suddenly sink in and then...

Jameson, Jackie, Marvin. Henrik had to get them back; Chase _ needed _ them back. Goal in mind, Henrik’s brain concocted a plan and set it in motion immediately. He marched down to Robbie’s room and pushed open the door. But his confident determination quickly vanished upon actually looking into the room. Even though everything was in place and organized, he could still see the disarray and chaos. Robbie’s lifeless corpse and Chase’s fearful face were seared in his mind. He turned the light on and cautiously stepped in, but the images wouldn’t go away. He tried to focus on his goal, battling between letting Chase’s past trauma paralyze him and having Chase’s current trauma motivate him.

Stepping over to the bed, Henrik kneeled down, put his arms on the mattress, bent his head, and prayed. Just like he had in the hospital only this time, he knew what he was praying too. “Antisepticeye...” Henrik paused for a moment. Should he really summon this demon back into his life? Surely anything involving him would only end in misery. Maybe, maybe he could take away Chase’s misery though. _ Focus on relieving his pain. _ “I need to speak with you.” Nothing. No flicker, cold or warm spot, tingle of fear... just the same unease that came with saying his name. “I want to make a deal with you.” Silence still. “I figured something out...” There was an audible flickering of the light, but nothing more than that. “I’m sorry I broke our last deal, but I’ve learned. And this time, I can keep my end of the bargain...” Henrik was starting to sweat with anxiety. “I can guarantee it even. Just, listen to me. Please.” There had to be something to get him here. What had he said last time... “I’ll do anything, give myself over to your will, if you’ll just hear me out.”

Static started filling the room, bombarding his ears and blocking out the light. Henrik begrudgingly stood and turned around to face the demon. The static cloud was starting to calm down, but it wasn't a solid figure like in the past. It was like it was trying to take human shape, but couldn’t settle itself. But some features gave it a semblance of form: those beady red eyes, a stark green hue, and a mouth made of light composed of sharp teeth. “W̥͊ė͜l̎ͅl,̲̽ ̮̅l̡͛o̾͜ok͝s͔͗ ̮͐l̰͘i̹͛k̻ĕ̪ so͘ͅm̗͑e͕͝ȯ̪nè̜’͍̈́s̻̐ ̦̀fin̻̑al̤̎ḷ̈y ̠̾wỉ͇s͍͊è̗d̨̀ ̡̚u̞̇p͉̑.” Anti grinned and Henrik’s stomach turned itself in knots. This was wrong, so wrong, but he had answers. “Ẉ̈́h̝͆a͇͘t ͔͑d̙͛o̠͘ ̲̔y̬̓o̡u̪̾ ̹̇w̝͝a̩̓nṱ̌ ̍ṭ̌ö́͜ ͌͜d͙isc͕̈́u̓s̡̉s͋, p̹͘u͓p̖̀p̙̈e͓͠t͇͊?̣͒” Puppet. Henrik hated that word. Anti didn’t control Henrik, yet.

“I want to make a trade for the rest of my brothers.”

“R̗̋e̞̓ā͔l̰̄ļ̇y̝̓?̛̰” It chuckled, moving closer to Henrik. “A̘͒nd̔, w̝h̗᷇a̺t͇ d͜o y͞ou̾ h̑a͇̽v͒ẻ t͉͊o ofͫf̈́ĕr᷊ me,᷄ d̗͑o͜c̩̍t̤͘o̝͗r?᷂”

“Me.” It was all he had left. “You obviously have an interest in me. Why else kidnap my family if only to make me do your bidding? I’ll work for you, willingly, do whatever you want, no questions– If, you bring my brothers back, unharmed.”

“H̯m͉m̳̂m̤͝,” it mused, floating closer to Henrik. “I͕͌nt͙͂e̞͂rȅ͚s̄ẗ̜in̼̒g, ̿b̏ṷ̈́ț͒,͉͠ ͖͊ẅh͚̋y͇͌ ͍͑w̟̾o̢͘u̻̓l̮̕ḋ ͚͋I ̐t̙̿r͝ȧ̧d̥͂e̢̎ ̞͐th̛͕r̛e͙̓ē͓ ̭̓š̪û͜bjė̢c͙̈ts̜̃ fo͇͑r̜͛ ju͙̔s͛t͠,” Anti was inches away from him, “o̱̚n̳e̙̓,” Henrik could feel it’s breath on his face, “y͔̓o̞͐u̙̓.” An icy chill slid down Henik’s spine. Three-for-one, of course he’d have to sweeten the pot, but Henrik knew this could happen though. He had been drilled on how to treat patients, and this was no different, just different circumstances; start conservative, and if that doesn’t work, then come the big moves.

“You need a body, don’t you?” Anti had always been possessing Chase when they talked before. “Permission too I’m guessing.” No body this time, even though he’d had nearly two weeks to find one. “So, take mine.” Anti didn’t seem phased, but maybe Henrik wasn’t saying the right words. Submission. That’s what he demanded from people. “I– I...” The words got caught in his throat. This was the only option he had though. He swallowed, cleared his throat, then started again. “I... submit to you.” There was a bitter tang on his tongue. Seems he didn’t go far enough though. “You can have my brain and my body.” Henrik closed his eyes in agony. It was one thing to imagine giving up your life, another to say it aloud, and shattering to mean it. _ For Chase. This is all for Chase. Don’t forget that. _ “I. . . will be your . . .” A deep breath in and out. He had to accept this. Fix the mistakes of the past by making this sacrifice. “Puppet.”

The glitches started getting more frantic, Anti grew bigger, and his smile twisted into something even more sickeningly malicious. “Y̮̓o̡̔u̒ ̮͊d͝r̘iv͐ȇ̝ ̘̈́ą͋ ̩ha͚͘ṟd̓ ̹̉b̪̍a̦͊r͉͊g̲͒a̯̕in͓̂.̠͆ ̟͊O̯͝n̞̔l̟̋ŷ͇–̺͛” No, no. Nothing was wrong with the deal. Nothing. “W̳̎h͋ä́͜t͐ ̿m̫̓ak̰̐eṣ̑ y̿ơ̳u ̈́͜t͙͛h͙̍i̪͘ń͔k̙̿ ͓̍I w̛ȯ͈u̞̇l͈̏d ̖̂w̼͑aṋ͊t͕͂ yo̤̒u̼̔?͛” Anti poked Henrik’s chest, making the man fall back onto the bed.

What, what was he even talking about? Of course Anti would want him.“Why else would you have me do three months of research for you?”

“C̒l͉̀os̹̽ëş̌t̙͆ å̞s̈se̻͒ţ͐.”

“You chose _me_ though, not Marvin or Jackie or Jameson. You kidnapped _them_. _They_ were leverage you used against _me_.”

“W̦͑h̏á̞ț͝ ̓m̕a̘͐k̨͑e̍s̔ yo̟̒ȗ ̭̒s͉̅o̓ ̇sȗ̺r͐ę̽ ̥͝I̕ d̢͑iď̥n͔͌’t͖̓ ͕́c͍̎h̼̓oö̹s̫̿e ̆th̬̿e͌m͓͗ ̈́ä͓́nd̨͛ ̩͗ju͓̍st͈̉ ̬̐l̞͊e̳̒f̛t̩̆ ̨̿yő͜u̲̍ ̞̂b̨̿e͍̾h͝in̢̈́d̠̓?͋” No, no that’s not – they were the ones kidnapped. They didn’t– wouldn’t have a reason to work with Anti. _ He _ was the only one being blackmailed. That’s how these things worked. The target is who you blackmail, not the kidnapees.

“I, I nearly figured out how to make Robbie live again though.” He could be useful. He had been useful.

“Y͍̊ou̻̍.̰͛ ̘̽Fǎil̨͒e̗͠d̙̐. ͙̆Pl̫̋ain̎ ͌a͝ͅnd̬̑ ̋si̕ͅm̻̌p̙̄lȩ͒.” He had been close though. If Robbie had just been better physically, it could have worked. “D͂i̟͐dṋ̏’t͗ ͈͠e̻v͊͜e͙n th̙̓i͉͝nk͖͘ d͎̿ë̬́at̛͚h͜͠ ̼̀wa̛̬s̛̱ ̞a ͉̀c̡̑u̺̿re ̟̋u̅nṫ̻i̯̾ḷ̿ ͙͒İ̘ ̮͐s̠͠ä̗i̹̋d ̂it̮͆.̀͜” Death isn’t a cure. It’s just an out, a scapegoat. “W̜̅h͈̅y ̋ẅoȗ̢l̺̾d̛͉ ̬̈́İ̱ ̦w͗ă͍nt̾ ̙̊so̤͛m̏e̼̐on̠̽ȅ as̹̎ _ ̧̄p̃aṱ͌h͎̓e̘̎tic̈ _ a͂s̯͂ ̈yo̠̎u̹̅?”

“I’m not pathetic!” Henrik sat up straighter. “You still need a body!”

Anti grew closer, larger, making sure Henrik was focusing on him. “N̫͠o ̯̂I ̧̓d͊ͅȯ̰n̟͝’ẗ. Ć̝h͘a̡̔s̺͐e̘͋ ̆ͅw͊as̚ ̟͝jṷ̓st̏ ̻̈́a ̥͝t̜r͛i̔v̑ia͒l͊ ̓ę̽x̐ͅpȇ͉ri̭̋m͓̌eñ̺t, ̭̾bu͎ẗ̗ ̕n̙͂o͑t̔ ͗ͅnè̜cẹ͌ss͈͋a̡͝ry. Á̤nd̟̒ ̙̑b̲̚es̡̓id̓ē͈s, Ĩ̙ ͇̾c͒o̔u̢͝ld͎̂ ̖͑ju̟͗st p͕͑r̀ay͗͜ ̛o̠͒n̋ͅ s͎͋om̛̝e̹͠ ṕ̩oo̞̅r̨͠_ s̱͝ǎ̟p _ l͉̚ik̲͝e ̰̔I ̆di͐ͅd ̦̂wǐ̠th̬̅ y̩̆ou̫͋ i̋f̂ ̕I̾ ̓ev̘͐er ̢͑wa̻͆nt̙͘ o̟̾n͚̓e͇͒ a̱͛g̑ͅa̭̋i̩n.̌

“Yo̭̓u ̻̃re͇̾mę͝mb̠̏er͇̓ t̠̽h͚͠at̥̆ d̻̈́ả͓y, ̣͘d̜̆oñ͕’t̞̑ ̮͒ỹ̺ou͉?̌” Henrik looked as far away from Anti as possible. That day, that was one of Henrik’s darker moments. Seeing his brother nearly dead, turning to a supposed higher power because of how powerless he was. He couldn’t bare the thought of losing his brother. But then, because of what he did, he’d lost all four of them. He regretted ever making that decision — letting desperation override what had happened and its inevitable outcome. “S͛ay̙iṇ̎g ̱̌y̓o͗u͛ ͋w̤̉ou͇̕lḑ̔ ̮͋dǒ͉ a͓̽nẏ̯th̐in̆͜g,̹̌ ̨̈́tr̺̒ad̆͜e ̼̐p̠͘lâ̝ce̩͊s̔,̒ jus̼̏t t͆o ̈́͜gė͎t ̘̐him̿ ̈bac̮͒k͗. P̗̂it͎̒ifu͖͠l.̣͋ A ̯̋doċ̳tò̳r ̞͛wẖ͌o ̣̾ċơ͍ul̻̓d̳̾n’t ͙͌ev̻̂en̺̒ s̼͂ave ͈̈́hi͕͛s ̗br͋ot͑hẹ̚r.̤͂ D͓̚id̝̈n’t e̕vẹ̊n ͐k̭͂no͇̍w ̧̋hȇ̪ w̡̎as͖͊ s̟̈ick̋ͅ!

“A̢ ̬d̼i̟s̮g̞r̙a͙ce͇ of̧ a͚ d̫o͓c̲to͇r͇. S̪a̤cr͕ḭfi̼ci̠n͜g̙ h͖ḭm̥se̯l͓f f̩o̫r h̡is̝ b͚ro̝th͈e̩rs̟ ̤ca̺u̬se̖ ̦h̺e ̜k͕no̘w̨s ̠t̰h̝a̗t̨’̦s ͈a̦ḷl ̱h̢e͍’̮s͍ ̮g̭o̭oḑ ͔f̬o̯r. Ȩv̯en̳ ̱n͓o̪w̹,̦ ͅy͙o͈u̗’̲r̰e͜ ̭ḍo̜i͚n͈gͅ ̟i̹t̙ ̣a̼g̞a͔in͚.̻ ̟B̼e̻c͇au̜s̪e̘ ̳y̝o̫u̺ ̣h̝a̻v̦e̬ ̲n͓otͅhi̙n̘g ̨e̪ls͇e͍ t̳o͕ ̗giv̦e͈. No̼w ̭wh̲y͙ ̗w͍ou̲l̼d͍ I̹ e̥ve̯r wa͈n̫t so̥m̗e̲t̨h̥ḭn͈g̻ ̥s̖o ̤sp͚in͇el͇e̯s̰s ̭a͍nd ̭p̮o̮iso̲n͎ed̙ ̗w̝i̧th̘ ͍s̪e̩nt̞i̘m͜e̥n̦ţ?”

Henrik didn’t want to listen to any of it. He glared up at this monster, ready to tell him off. But when he opened his mouth, it wasn’t fury that came out. It was barely a whimper. “No, I– I’m not.”

“S̔ä́v͗e̕ ̓i͘t͈͗ ́f͗ȍr̉ ̍C͋ha̍s̙͋ë.̋ ̕A͠t̛ ̇l̒eȃs̛̫t̓ ̅t̊h̢̐a̜͗t͋ ̍m̀a̠͗n ͒h̉a̠͗ŝ ̀the͗ ͂g͋u̖̇ts͗ ̕t̛ơ d̕ö ̏s̈́ȏm̧̒e̕t͛h̖̚i͐n̈g ̈́f͘ơȑ ̌h̊ĭm̧̒s̝e͋l͒f̆.”

That got Henrik on his feet. “No! Chase wasn’t in his right mind!”

“P̚le̕a͝ṡę!͠ He͚͂ wä́s̍ ̩͒un̡̐ha͙͊ppy̿, a͍̓nḍ̏ ̍d̿i̽d ̱͐s̟̏ome͊ťḧ̦ing̀ ab̍o͗u̻̍t͋ ̉ĭ͍t. Y͓͛ou̥̿ d͝řo͂v̆ẻ ̹̔ý͈ou͖̐rse̿l̒f̈́ ͕̅i̒n̕s͒ä̰ne̱͝ ́w͛i͠th̕ ̥̎m͐o̯̓nț̇hs̍ ͊o̾f͝ ͘ë͓nḑ͐les̲̐s tes̻͝t͒iňg͝ ̺́o̅n͍̊ a̖͌ d̛̦ea̠̍d z̟͌om̪̑bį͘e̅.̋ N̩̓o.̻͘ ̒Y͝ö́u ̱͝oǹ̲ly ̟̂do̊ͅ ̅t̓h̾ing̨s̀ ͋w̯̏h͗ë́n̛̳ y̅o̎u’r͐è dr̋ï̝v͊èn̅ ͕͘t͂o̓ ͌y̾õȕr ̘̌l͑im͌it̽s̓. ̣̾Ä́n͂d́ͅ w͖̚h̺̑en ͓͂yő̲u ̎d͌o͌ ̾f̎i̪̽na͛l̚ly̽ ̎d͕ec̈i̫̾d̋é ̒s̠͒o͋m̒e̎th͋i͊ṇ̋g, ̈i͘t’s i͛mp͈̄ul̯̓sív̛e̊, ̤̿re̎ͅck̮͑lèss̨̈́,͉̃ ̕ȁn̏ď̨ ȗ͍tt̢̓er̎l͑y̆ ̌d́am̓͜ag̞͌in͚͆g” He made life and death decisions everyday. He wasn’t impulsive, he couldn’t be. Every decision he made was rational, maybe quick, but rational. And logically, that had to also apply to his home decisions. Didn't it? “H̪̔a̬͠v͓̿e̻̋ f̃ǔ̱ṅ̦ ̓b̀e̟͘i͕n͘ĝ ̆ả̢ ̽Mo̳̚t͊he͈̽r͂ ̂H̽én̄ ̃ṭ͠ô ̈an̋ ̂ë̥ṃ̌p̛t̋y͝ ̇ń̮ë͜st.” Anti left with an echoing laugh as the glitches dissipated and eventually there was no trace of him anymore. 

Henrik toppled over the side table in rage. He couldn’t bring himself to get up from the bed though. Anti couldn’t be right about him, being worthless, impulsive, stupid. But then, why was he still thinking about that, and not his brothers. Tears welled up and his throat got all choked up. He’d lost them again. Maybe he always knew this deal would end this way. So why bother proposing such a weak, flimsy argument? If he’d just waited, figured out a better plan, maybe they would be back instead of lost.


	7. Dark Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can Henrik do now? Start trying to live life again maybe. That’s all he can do at this point, isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: mention of suicide

Failure to help Chase changed how Henrik conducted things. For a start, he stopped hovering and waiting for Chase to get better. He still checked in on his despondent brother, but something about the trek up the stairs carried far more weight than it should have. So much so that he took to sleeping on the couch downstairs so he didn’t have to walk up to his bed every night. To accommodate his absence, Henrik stationed water bottles outside each bedroom, even his own (if Chase ever did decide he missed him enough to wallow in there). The chair took a stationary place near the top of the stairs. Made it easier for Henrik to bring up Chase’s  <strike> unappreciated </strike> meal of the day. Despite the distant though, a little bit of Henrik’s heart ached at the thought of leaving his brother alone. A small bit of sentiment laced in a note on the chair.  _ I’ll be here when you’re ready. _ Hopefully he actually could be. Chase had suffered in silence before, but this... it felt far worse than anything before. He– they, both could never be the same again. But unfortunately, life marched on, and Henrik had to continue moving with it, ready or not.

To start, he tried to start getting himself into some routine, a sense of normalcy. For instance, making sure he ate at least two meals a day, slept for at least four hours, brushed his teeth, changed clothes everyday — basic descent human things. But of course, the days had more hours than necessary to complete those tasks. Fun things, hobbies, entertainment, activities to pass the time. Coming up with ideas that weren’t work related was hard, but not impossible. Problem was, nothing retained his attention. Nothing on television, no books or journal articles, not the book of Soduku he kept tucked away, not even mindlessly messing around in his phone’s apps. Daily and weekly chores were still a thing though. Henrik couldn’t recall the last time he did laundry, so that was on top of the list. Trudging up the stairs, and shuffling forward to his room, Henrik tried to think of what to do next. Passing Jameson’s room, he instinctively looked inside, looking for Chase. No one. A sigh escaped, but somehow his chest felt heavier. Once in his own room, Henrik gathered his sheets, the garments scattered on the floor from the past day or so, and tossed them all in his hamper. Then he opened his drawers and changed into something that was clean. Didn’t make him feel any cleaner though.

With some effort, Henrik lifted the handles of his basket and journeyed down to the laundry room. Throwing the sheets onto the linoleum floor, he started filling the washer with his clothes. Smell started escaping the pile, getting worse and worse the further down he went. At the bottom was a flattened pair of scrubs. Picking them up, Henrik held them there for a moment, then tossed them in the washer barrel. Everything fit inside, which was a comfort in one sense, but disheartening in a much grander way. Dumping a cup of soap in, Henrik set the washer to heavy duty and left it alone. Half an hour, probably a bit more. Exercise to keep him occupied, or yoga perhaps? Maybe he could get some endorphins running through his brain.

After messing with the TV remote, Henrik managed to play 30 minute yoga video on their flat screen. Fifteen minutes in and boredom hit him like a rock. Henrik rolled his eyes, thinking,  _ What does Marvin even see in these? _ But that playfully bored expression quickly disappeared after he realized his words. Couldn’t disagree with Marvin, and then have a long argument– discussion about how boring yoga was. Have Henrik trying to do it with him, while he corrected Henrik's form every five seconds.

Exercise. Something to get his heart pumping and away from actual thought. A quick scroll, and there was a 30 minute workout video. Fine. But after getting no more than 5 minutes in, his heart was already sky-rocketing and his lungs were on fire. Why was this happening? He was in shape. Pushing himself, he fought through and did the workout, just slower than those mad instructors. To his dismay, he even had to skip an exercise just to catch his breath. At the end, Henrik let himself collapse onto the carpet and just lay there, trying to absorb as much air as possible. The pounding of his heart and blood rushing through his head overwhelmed his ears. Only after it had calmed down did he attempt to get up. Finding his balance, Henrik’s stomach suddenly made itself quite vocal, and painful. Great, now he was tired, sweaty, and hungry. And had to do more laundry.  _ Not very invigorating _ . No mood improvement now either.

Back in the laundry room, Henrik switched the wet clothes over to the dryer and dumped his sheets into the washer. Growls rumbled from deep inside his stomach, berating him for doing so much. “In a minute,” he huffed. First, he needed to get this sticky sweat off. Dragging his feet up the stairs, he took comfort in the fact that there was at least a reason for the ache in his bones and weight in his chest.

Turning the knob on cool, then undressing, he stepped underneath the waterfall. Ice water pricked at his skin, jolting him awake enough to actually turn it hotter. And then everything started to relax and melt away. His brain took him through the motions of his regular shower routine. Although, everything seemed to move slower and he must have spent over twenty minutes in there, and yet, time seemed to have passed so quickly.

After he got out and wrapped a towel around himself, he went down the hall to his room for a second costume change. And back down the stairs into the kitchen. Thankfully, his stomach had stopped harassing him, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t eat. Opening the fridge, he was met with a barren wasteland of condiments and scraps of food. Right, they were nearly out of food. Switching over to the pantry, he was reminded of how dire the situation was. Two nearly finished bag of chips, some baking supplies, a couple sprinkle containers, one half box of oatmeal, and a horde of tea and coffee mixes. “Alright,” Henrik sighed, dragging himself to the front door. It felt like he changed to autopilot, leaving the house, driving, shopping. He made a point of getting the basic cooking essentials and just whatever looked good, even though no food actually looked appetizing. In no time, he was back at the house, with three– no, four bags of groceries. Wasn’t worth trying to be a hero and bring everything inside in one trip.

As he was unloading the car, he started to feel a bit okay. His brain even started concocting a notion that when he opened that door, he would see Jameson in the arm chair, sipping a cup of tea while reading, Chase on the main couch playing a video game, and Jackie chasing Marvin while Marvin was messing about with his magic. Opening the door, Henrik loudly announced, “I’m–” before seeing the dim, empty living room, “home.” Normal was a fantasy now, wasn’t it?

Henrik placed the first two bags into the kitchen before going back for the others. He made sure to lock his car and the front door as he ventured back into the house. No sooner had he started unpacking than he heard the pounds of running feet upstairs. “At least he’s getting more active,” Henrik said to himself, returning to his task, feeling a sort of disconnect between himself and what he was doing.

“What are you doing here?” Henrik glanced behind him to see a haggard Chase standing on the other side of the kitchen. The sight gave Henrik pause. Chase was actually up, and moving, and talking coherently, but then he just went back to stocking the pantry as if nothing had happened. “Why aren’t you at work, Henrik?”

Henrik took a long breath in and out before finally admitting, “I quit.” Funny, he’d never said that aloud before. Made his insides squirm and his whole chest hollow.

“Because of Robbie, right?” That made Henrik stop putting things away and fully turn to look at Chase.

“How do you know about him?”

“Everything he saw...” Chase stared vaguely past Henrik, but then snapped himself back to reality. “I can remember.”

“. . . I see,” Henrik looked down and slowly picked up an item from his bag. “It must be painful.” He wanted to finish the task at hand, but he was just frozen, hand hovering in the grocery bag. There was a silence between them. Henrik knew he had to say something, but what could he even say to something like that? “Glad you’re moving around again.” Wrong thing to say, but everything was the wrong thing to say.

“What I don’t understand is why it took you so long to do something?” Chase’s words stung like peroxide on an open wound, but it got Henrik working again. “I mean, you’re the smartest one in the family, but you made almost no progress.”

“Medicine isn’t always a straight path,” Henrik managed, doing his best to keep a calm voice.

“Yeah, but you ran so many tests, I would’ve thought you’d’ve had enough information to draw  _ some _ kind of conclusion, or try something.”

“I did what I could,” Henrik spoke through clenched teeth. Chase was making assumptions that he wasn’t trying, working to save a dead man walking. “No medical textbooks tell you how to deal with the walking dead.” Henrik let himself slip as he slammed a box of cereal onto a shelf. He could hear Chase take a step back. It felt like he should have apologized for his outburst, but that wasn’t going to happen. He hadn’t had time to properly deal with the fact that Robbie was dead — too busy worrying about Chase. “You know,” Henrik began, softer, “Robbie was human once.” He slowly got up and moved to sit on one of the chairs on the far side of the kitchen, resting his hand on the edge of the counter. “Just like one of us, but then something happened, and he was like that. Functioning– living, but just,” Henrik rubbed the back of his neck, “differently. I thought that if I could start his heart again and get things working, maybe...” Henrik started playing with his hands, trying to figure out words when his brain kept reminding him of what he did to Robbie.

“Maybe you could cure death,” Chase finished.

“No not that– just,” Henrik didn’t know what he was saying, but it wasn’t that. “Why are you so interested in this?”

Chase stormed over to Henrik. “Because you spent all your time working on an impossible puzzle instead of working to save your brothers!” Chase screamed, even though there was only a two foot wide counter top separating them.

“That’s not true!” Henrik shouted back, standing straight up. Chase may have been taller, but Henrik was older. Should have been smarter and focused on ‘I feel’ statements, but he would not be made the villain here. “I thought about all of you,  _ Every _ night! I tried thinking of ways to get you back, negotiate my deal with Anti, but nothing!! I didn’t have a way to get to any of you besides fixing Robbie! And I tried every combination of chemicals I could think of, but it All. Spelled. Death! And death isn’t a cure!! No matter what that twisted demon may have said! But I did what he said all to get you all back!!”

“But you couldn’t even do That right! Why couldn’t you just tell Robbie who I was!!?”

“Because Anti is a manipulative bastard who just wanted me to feel pain! Robbie didn’t need to know all the gruesome details about how you tried to  _ kill  _ yourself!!”

“But I did try to kill myself!! And you were so upset about that that you let a DEMON inhabit my body just to keep me alive!!”

Henrik faltered, leaning back a bit, but this, this was what Chase was really upset about, wasn’t it? “You were DYING! And I couldn’t do anything to stop it! So yes, I prayed that some higher being would keep you alive, because what was I supposed to tell Jamie, or Jackie, or Marvin– Chase killed himself and I did _nothing_!!!? NO!! **_You_** were being selfish _then, _and your being selfish **_Now_**! Claiming that I didn’t think about my brothers when that’s ALL I Fucking DO!! I save you from yourselves!”

“No, NO! **_YOU_** insert yourself into our lives and make everything we do _your _Fucking business!! You’re not our dad, so stop acting like we’re your kids!!”

“When you stop making childish choices, I will!! You think I enjoy being the oldest, looking after you four idiots!? NO! I would much rather have started my own family with Charlene, but then you all started falling into ruin and  _ I _ had to pick up the pieces!”

“That’s my fucking point!! Let us fall into ruin! Because it’s  **OUR ** lives, NOT yours!”

“But that’s what family does! They stand BY you and SupPort you, even when you hate them!!”

“BullSHIT!! That’s what you say to make yourself feel better about your twisted actions!”

“Fuck this!” Henrik lifted his hands up from the counter and pushed the chair away from behind him. “I’m not continuing this shouting match right now!” He turned around to leave.

“I’m not finished with you yet!”

“I AM!” Henrik put a hand up like he was waving goodbye. He needed air, could feel the heat from all the blood rushing to his face, the tension in his jaw, the hot tears welling in his eyes and dry spots in the back of his throat. He hadn’t even made it into the dining room before he felt something hit his back and doubled over from the sheer momentum of the blow. Only, he didn’t feel Chase’s weight on him. Henrik tried standing up, but was immediately stopped by his muscles tearing themselves apart. And every micro-movement made it worse. Without thought, he fully collapsed onto the ground in agony. “What the fuck did you do Chase?!”


End file.
